Jumper
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Set after Borderline. The title pretty much says it.


"You come even half a step closer and you see what I look like after I've fallen 40 stories," Gabe Genson threatened Emily, as she tried to talk him out of killing himself.

"Ok, Ok, don't move. I won't come any closer. You haven't made it real clear to me why you want to jump though," She challenged. She was running out of options, after having been up there with him for two hours, and he wasn't looking any less like he wanted to step back.

"Life sucks, how's that?"

"How does you life suck?"

"I told you already!"

"No, you told me that your brother was sent to jail. His life sucks Gabe, not yours."

"I don't got shit without him! Ok! He's it! He's the only fucking person I had left in this shitbucket world! You fucking happy now!"

"What happened to your parents?" She asked softly.

"They in jail too. Mom's a hooker, Dad liked to sell coke, even used me and Jake as mules. Nice folks right?" He asked sarcastically.

"You know what Gabe?"

"No, but I bet you can't wait to tell me."

"You should be pissed, life dealt you a really shitty hand. So be angry, be furious, scream at the top of your lungs at God. Cry, throw something, punch a wall, you're entitled," She rattled off, passion pushing the words out of her.

"Who says I didn't do all that already?"

"If you did, you wouldn't be up here."

"Yeah, like you'd really fucking know."

"How you're feeling? No, nobody, except you knows that."

"Yeah, you're right. You don't know shit," he told her backing closer to the edge of the building.

"What are you doing, Gabe?" She asked cautiously.

"Ending this."

"No, don't you dare!" She demanded, briefly startling him.

"Bitch, who the fuck you think you are talking to me like that! You ain't my mama!"

"No, I'm not, and I bet you're mother told you, you weren't really worth much, right?"

"And, who says she wasn't right?"

"I don't believe she was Gabe, not for a minute."

He looked at her sideways a moment. "Lady, you don't fucking know me. You come up here and start talking like we buddies or something…you know what? Fuck this I'm done!"

"No! Please Gabe, don't do this!" She begged him, desperately wracking her brain for anything she had left to tell him.

"Why do you fucking care if I die?!" He demanded turning back to her.

"Because! Jesus, Gabe, you're just a damned kid! You're 15, you have you're whole life ahead of you! You can still do something to change your life, you don't have to end up like your parents and your brother!" she pled with him, physically reaching out to him.

"Lady, I stopped being a kid the first time I saw my daddy snort blow, and my mama spread her legs for some man that wasn't my daddy and take the twenties he offered. And that was a long time ago. I'm done with this," He told her, before turning and jumping off the ledge.

"Noooo!" Emily shouted, running over too late to save him, hut just in time see him fall, and hear bones cracking in a heavy thud, a sound she'd never forget.

"God damn it!" She hissed, digging her fingers in her hair, and biting her lip, stress and guilt slamming into her all at once.

Half her back-up looked at her nervously, not sure what to do, while the other half, on the ground, ran over to the body, staring in horror, and one calling the M.E.

"Son of a bitch!" Emily shouted angrily kicking the concrete ledge, and cursing again when her toe slammed into it.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later 

"Hey, Matt!" Frank shouted a greeting at him as he ran into the office, after returning from his excursion with the L.A.P.D., picking up a nasty suspect.

"Hey Frank." He said, brushing past him.

"Wait man, where's the fire?"

"I was supposed to meet Cheryl twenty minutes ago," he answered, searching for something at his desk.

"Jesus Matt, would you sit your ass down for a minute," Frank demanded.

"Alright, alright," Matt said annoyed, sitting, "What's up?"

"Lehman lost her jumper."

"What?" Matt asked blankly, clearly not believing his ears.

"Almost an hour ago. 15 year-old kid took a swan-dive from forty stories up," Frank said bluntly, trying to make it as clear as possible.

"Oh no, where is she?" Any negotiator has a hard time losing someone, but after Mexico, Emily would not be taking it that much worse.

"M.E.'s office, went with the body they said," he answered, knowing that any moment Matt would be out there door, meeting with Cheryl or no.

Matt ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "Cheryl's going to have to wait."

"I think she expected that. She's with Emily's class now."

"In that case, I'm gone," Matt told him, grabbing his jacket, and leaving as fast as he came in. It was a twenty-minute drive to the M.E.'s, but he could make it in fifteen.

* * *

"Hi, I'm looking for Special Agent Lehman?" Matt asked the receptionist, showing his ID. 

"Oh, is she the red-head that came in with the jumper?"

"Uh, yeah that's her."

She pointed down the hall, "Last door on your right. Far as I know she's still back there."

"Great, thanks," he told her, sliding his ID back into his pocket and heading down the hallway. When he opened the door, he saw her standing there, staring at a still zippered black bag on the table.

"Hey, Em?" He ask quietly, approaching her slowly.

She didn't answer him, she just continued staring at the black body back in front of her.

"Em?" He tried again, putting a hand on her shoulder.

This time she jumped when she felt his touch, and turned to look at him.

"I heard what happened, I'm sorry."

She nodded her head absently at him, and turned back to the body, staring blankly once again.

"Emily?" He asked, becoming more concerned.

She turned to look at him again, her eyes asking him, rather than her mouth, what he wanted.

"We should go home," he suggested softly, putting an arm around her shoulders to turn her toward the door.

She shrugged him off, but nodded and walked out the door, not bothering to look back to see if he was following. Once in the parking lot, she stopped and allowed him to proceed her to the car, since she didn't know where it was. Then they settled in for a disturbingly quiet car-ride, with Emily staring out her window, and Matt glancing over at her every so often.

Once he opened to door to his apartment, she went straight for the kitchen, rustling around in one of his cabinets. She came up with a bottle of vodka, looking at it a minute, before deciding it would work just fine, shrugging and unscrewing the cap. Instead of grabbing a glass, she settled bringing the bottle to her lips, and taking a long, sip, feeling the liquid burns it's way from down her throat, into her stomach.

"Jesus Em, what the hell are you doing?" He demanded grabbing the bottle from her, as she went to lift it to her mouth again.

She didn't say anything, just gave him a look that was halfway between a glare and a stare, and going back into the cabinet and coming up with rum. But, he grabbed it from her before she could even unscrew the cap.

"Do you mind?" She bit out angrily, eyes going toward the bottles.

"Yeah, I actually, I do mind you trying to drink yourself into a stupor," he answered just as nastily.

"Matt, just give me one of those bottles," she warned him.

"No, I'm not letting you do this to yourself Emily." Conviction burned in his eyes.

"Not letting me? Since when do you own me?" She spit.

"I don't own you. I care about you, and you aren't going to do this."

"Fine, I have liquor at my apartment," she told him, heading back toward his door.

"You think I won't follow you there?" He challenged, following her.

"I'll lock my door." She shot back.

"I have a key, remember?"

"Damn it Matt, just leave me alone!" She yelled.

"And let you destroy yourself with guilt and alcohol? Never."

"What is this? An intervention?" She bit out sarcastically.

"No, it's just somebody that cares about you."

"Stop. Don't…don't do that."

"What?"

"Stop trying to save me!" She suddenly yelled.

He was so stunned by her sudden outburst he didn't immediately respond.

"I don't want to be saved Matt! I don't need to be saved! Just leave me alone!" She yelled turning away from him.

"When your guzzling vodka? Yeah, Em, you need a little saving!" He shouted back.

"Fuck you." She spit, pissed now.

"Em, it isn't your fault. You tried to save that kid, and he just could be saved."

"You weren't there Matt. How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you. You'd still be up on that roof, talking to him, if that kid hadn't jumped. You did everything you could have done to help him."

"He was just a kid Matt! A god damned kid! Fifteen! And I, I couldn't help him…"

"He was too far over the edge when you got to him Em. It isn't your fault."

"I can talk the most irrational people into releasing their hostages, but I couldn't keep a fifteen year-old kid from killing himself. How pathetic is that?" She asked, self-loathing dripping in her tone.

"Em, don't do that to yourself. You can't save everybody."

"Evidently, I can't save anybody anymore. Third body I've got on my head."

"Those DEA agents weren't your fault. You didn't tell them to cross the border illegally."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't screwed up with Felix, they wouldn't have had to go down there…and," she paused, tears catching in her throat, "if I hadn't screwed up with Gabe, he wouldn't have jumped."

"Emily, I don't know what I can say to get through to you! You aren't God! That kid would have jumped with or without you! And the DEA agents, they were reckless! They went down there, guns blazing, bad-boy attitude flaring, and got themselves killed! You and me just followed them, and you saved us from getting decapitated! Remember that?!" He ranted, at his wits end.

She watched him, her eyes slowly growing redder, before the damns broke, "I can't do this anymore Matt! I can't keep losing people!"

He caught her in his arms before she crumbled, holding her close. "Every negotiator loses people Em. You're just going through a tough period right now, it'll get better."

"When?! When will it get better?" She demanded, tears soaking her face.

"I don't know, but it will. You're a good negotiator Em; it has to get better." He told her, kissing her forehead, and holding her tightly to him. She continued to cry quietly into his chest, having reached her breaking point.

He knew it would still be a battle from here. The guilt would threaten to swallow her over the next few weeks, maybe even months, there would be a nightmare here and there, and she would doubt herself the next few times she took primary. She might even try to go for that vodka bottle again, but she'd work through it. Emily was strong, he knew that, even as he held her crying in his arms, she would get past this.

* * *

So evidently I did not have my class this morning, so I got to finish a story I started. Spring cleaning time, which means over the next week or so I'll be finishing and posting the half dozen, not quite finished stories sitting on my drive. Enjoy! 


End file.
